Parent – Teacher Conference
by Caged Eternity
Summary: “Is Lucretia not performing competently?” Mr. Snape demanded. “Her mother and I have been under the impression that her work was perfectly satisfactory. She is a very intelligent child.” Severus's daughter seems to be causing trouble once again...AU, SSHG
1. The Mrs

_Disclaimer: Naturally, none of it is mine.

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**PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE**

_**Part I **_**_: The Mrs._  
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"Ms. Beckett?"

Eleanor Beckett of Hethanall Primary School drew a smooth black slash though a question on the mathematics homework she was marking, neatly wrote in the correct answer, and laid the third-year's paper away in a filing drawer before looking up from her desk. A head of curly brown hair was poking around the corner of her office entry, the accompanying shoulder braced hesitantly against the edge of the door.

"You must be Mrs. Snape," Ms. Beckett said. The door was pushed wide with greater confidence and a young woman entered, pausing only briefly for permission before seating herself in the straight-backed wooden chair opposite Ms. Beckett.

"Call me Hermione," the woman said brightly, and Ms. Beckett reluctantly shook the hand that shot out across her desk, eying the visitor as she did so. Mrs. Snape appeared to be a woman of cheerful efficiency: she wore a clean, practical blouse, minimal make-up, and an unwavering smile.

"Yes, well," Ms. Beckett replied gruffly. She rolled her fountain pen absently between her thick fingers. "I take it, madam, that you received my message?"

"Lucretia gave me your note yesterday, yes. You say she's been a source of some trouble?" A small, worried frown creased Mrs. Snape's brow.

"She has, indeed. Have you no notion at all as to the unruly conduct of your child?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"To begin with," said Ms. Beckett, tapping her fountain pen significantly against her desk, "your daughter possesses an unfortunate disregard for the directions given in class. Last week, for example, the students were instructed to write an essay about their favourite animal. Your daughter chose to write her paper about _dragons_."

Mrs. Snape pressed her hand quickly to her mouth, smothering a smile. "Is – is that so?" she asked presently.

"When I explained to your daughter that dragons were creatures of fantasy and, in fact, did not exist, she proceeded to inform me – quite freshly, I might add – that some book called _Fantastic Beasts_ claimed that the – that the 'Welsh Green' was perfectly well known to inhabit numerous regions throughout Britain."

"Oh, dear. Well, I do apologize, but surely there's no harm in encouraging a child's imagination? _Fantastic Beasts_ is a storybook that Lucy quite adores, Severus gave it to her for her sixth – "

"I've sorry, severance? I must misunderstand you. Are you saying that your daughter's behavior is a result of your losing your job?"

"Pardon? No – _Severus_. My husband. Lucy's father."

Ms. Beckett pursed her thin lips unattractively, her thoughts swelling with dislike for these queer people with their queer names. No one was called things like that, anymore – and as if the parents weren't quite enough, they had to go and inflict their poor daughter with a name like _Lucretia_...

Not, thought Ms. Beckett grimly, that she'd spare much pity for the girl. The child was a dangerous nuisance, and the twenty-nine years of order with which Ms. Beckett had ruled over her students now stood in jeopardy.

"Even so." Ms. Beckett cleared her throat and crossed her fleshy arms across her substantial bosom. A small blot of ink began to seep from the tip of her fountain pen out across the chartreuse fabric of her blouse. "Your daughter's imagination is the least of my worries at the moment."

Mrs. Snape arranged her features into a suitably concerned expression. "Is it?"

"Your daughter, Mrs. Snape, has become a vandal."

The woman seated across from Ms. Beckett stiffened in her chair. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lucretia has taken to scribbling upon desktops. Funny words and pictures all over the place. I can't make out what they ought to be, but I certainly don't like it."

Mrs. Snape visibly relaxed. "Well, that's nothing horrible," she said, with a slight chuckle. "Can't you just wash them off?"

"That's the trouble, madam, nothing seems to erase the marks. Somehow the child has gotten her hands on some odd sort of permanent pencils."

"Well, I'll speak with my husband about it. He's, erm, a chemist, you see, and I'm sure he's got something that will strip the marks right off." Mrs. Snape rose to her feet. "I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Beckett, that Lucy has been causing such disturbances in class. I'll be sure to address these issues with her tonight. But if that's all?"

Ms. Beckett scowled darkly. "Not quite." She flapped a hand, and Mrs. Snape resumed her seat. "Your daughter has also been exhibiting some poor choices in language, Mrs. Snape. I don't know what in the world a 'Muggle' is, but it is unacceptable for her to use the term towards other children."

Mrs. Snape winced. "I haven't a clue what she could mean by it. Are you sure she doesn't intend it as something friendly?"

"The word is generally preceded by 'stupid' or 'idiot'."

"I'll tell her off," Mrs. Snape said with a sigh. "Is there anything else?"

Ms. Beckett shook her head and drummed her fountain pen against the edge of her desk. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Snape."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Beckett. Thank you for your time."


	2. and Mr

_A/N: A good while overdue, but...  


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**PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE**

_**Part II **_**_: ...and Mr.  
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The small brass nameplate reading "Eleanor Beckett" clattered noisily to the floor as the heavy door to Ms. Beckett's office was flung violently against the wall adjacent. Ms. Beckett's fountain pen started skittishly, trailing a large, inky blot across her page, and Ms. Beckett, lips pursing with indignation, looked up hastily into the face of the man who had so swiftly crossed the distance of the room between them to brace his hands on the neat stacks of graded work before her and lean, fiercely livid, across her desk.

"May I help you?" Ms. Beckett enquired, her throat just barely suppressing a quaver.

"You may indeed," the man spat, imposing himself even further so that his remarkable nose was but inches from Ms. Beckett's own. "I have reason to believe that you, madam, have found some cause for dissatisfaction in my child?"

Ms. Beckett paled slightly. "I take it I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Snape?"

"No pleasure of mine, I assure you," Mr. Snape replied coldly. He drew back at last to take possession of the rigid wooden chair behind him, his black eyes flashing. Ms. Beckett released an infinitesimal breath of relief.

"I rather thought, er, _Mrs._ Snape would be joining me this afternoon?"

"Mrs. Snape was detained today at work. She assured me that this meeting would waste no more than fifteen minutes of my time."

"Ah – yes – well, then – if you'd be so kind – "

"Is Lucretia not performing competently?" Mr. Snape demanded. "Her mother and I have been under the impression that her work was perfectly satisfactory. She is a very intelligent child."

"Yes – well – I mean to say – yes, her work is quite satisfactory, more than satisfactory," Ms. Beckett fumbled, rapping her fountain pen nervously against the edge of her desk. "Her performance is exemplary, she is easily at the top of her class, a real credit to Hethanall Primary, I assure you. But the issue is not – "

"Then is she having difficulty making friends?" Mr. Snape interrupted. His expression seemed scornful of the very possibility. "She's a thoroughly delightful young girl, takes just after her mother, and she speaks often of the other children at school, I cannot imagine – "

"No, no, Mr. Snape, your daughter is very friendly with the other children – she does occasionally seem frustrated by the fact that none are quite so clever as she – nevertheless – she is in general a very amiable and engaging girl, the other children like her very much – "

"Well then," snapped Mr. Snape, "what can possibly be the problem?"

"The trouble is, Mr. Snape – " Ms. Beckett wrung her fat hands, having laid aside her fountain pen altogether. "The trouble is, some of your daughter's behavior, you see, is not quite – not quite – "

"Are you attempting to insinuate," Mr. Snape said slowly, "that my daughter is some manner of _delinquent_?"

"No, Mr. Snape – " declared Ms. Beckett quickly, "that is to say – not precisely – "

"Well then explain yourself, madam," Mr. Snape said frostily, "because I am growing exceedingly short on patience."

"Well, first of all – " Ms. Beckett hesitated – "First of all, Lucretia has been failing to participate properly in classroom chores. The students are all assigned to a weekly chore roster, and when it came to be Lucretia's turn to sweep out the supply closet, she flatly refused to do so, announcing the job to be "ill use of a perfectly good broom" and – and proceeding, Mr. Snape, to trot about the classroom with the broom between her legs." Ms. Beckett watched Mr. Snape apprehensively, fearful of his reaction to this peculiar bit of information.

Mr. Snape, however, did not erupt with any of the anger that Ms. Beckett had anticipated. "_Potter,_" he ground out, simply and ambiguously, scowling at the desk, and when he glanced impatiently up again at Ms. Beckett he gave a brusque wave of his hand, indicating that she should carry on.

"Your daughter has also taken to bringing sweets to class and distributing them among her fellow students," Ms. Beckett continued; Mr. Snape's eyes positively bulged incredulously at the ludicrous nature of this statement. "Only they seem to be highly unpleasant – something about an Every Flavored Bean? The children have made a game of it, they all take it in turns to eat one, only sometimes they're ordinary, and sometimes they're odd-flavored, pepper and liver and vomit and the like – it's terribly distracting when I'm trying to conduct a lesson," she concluded waspishly.

Mr. Snape only rolled his eyes. "Weasley, of course," he said contemptuously, much to Ms. Beckett's mystification. He relaxed back into his seat, seemingly exasperated but nonetheless more at ease than he had heretofore appeared. "Well, and is that all, Ms. Beckett? I am really not alarmed by these occurrences – I will speak to my daughter, and I assure you, she will not – "

"Only one last thing," Ms. Beckett interjected hurriedly. "It's just – I've already spoken to Mrs. Snape once about it, and really, I don't find that it's necessarily meant in aggression – in fact at times I think Lucretia intends it to be endearing or fond – but, Mr. Snape, I've already had several parents complain to me about _their_ children adopting the term, and as I can't for the life of me make any guess as to what it means, it just will not do."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your daughter, Mr. Snape. I simply cannot allow her to go about calling the other children 'silly Muggles'."

Mr. Snape laughed, his lip curling derisively. "And are you quite sure, Ms. Beckett," he said smoothly, pushing back his chair and rising to stand, "that they don't deserve it?" And, smirking, he gave a curt nod of farewell, and swept dispassionately from the room.


End file.
